


A SE ÎNFIRIPÁ

by ahestele



Series: A Se Infiripa [1]
Category: Alec Secareanu (actor), God's Own Country (2017), God's Own Country (2017) RPF, Josh O'Connor (actor)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28741923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahestele/pseuds/ahestele
Summary: Because these two were too beautiful not to write. :-)
Relationships: Josh O'Connor/Alec Secareanu
Series: A Se Infiripa [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2107191
Comments: 13
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing; Josh O'Connor/Alec Secareanu  
> Rating: Barely PG-13 for now; NC-17 eventually.  
> I have done research on Romanian and British terms but have no beta in my little RPF fandom of one :-) Apologies for any terms used incorrectly  
> Yes, I am taking artistic license with timelines.  
> Disclaimer: This is completely and categorically a work of fiction.  
> Dedication: For Nico, who is still saying 'Write it! I'll read it!' after all this time, and means it. For addictedtogaymovies on tumblr, who offered enthusiastic support to someone she'd just met

CAIET

They each kept a journal with them at all times. Francis suggested it but Josh had already begun his; a small black leather book with a leather tie to keep it closed. He’d write or draw in it between takes or at night while they watched the DVDs Francis had given them to view for reference or while they laughed at the comedies to balance out the angst of the films. Josh’s large hands almost swallowed the book, and the drawing pencil he used, his lips in a pout the more involved with writing he became.

Alec bought his journal in the airport between flights, a more basic one, and he’d jot down thoughts in Romanian, about the day’s work, the weather. The day he delivered the lamb he wrote one line, so strung out from emotion and fatigue but keeping that experience like a lamp inside, burning. He hadn’t been prepared, from the one time he assisted Francis’s father with a different ewe, for the feel of the life that slid into his hands, still steaming from the womb and quivering from the shock of the cold. How Alec cleared mucous from its nose and rubbed warmth into its coat as the lamb shook afterbirth from its ears, already searching for its mother. He’d written: One take; he lived.

They each had a journal and it was understood they didn’t share each other’s, not like Francis shared his the first time he spoke to each of them about the project. So when Alec picked up Josh’s book from the floor, where it fell by accident, he tossed it on the table as Josh went ahead to the bathroom. The journal fell flat, opened, as books sometimes did, to the place last used, or most used, and Alec glanced as he moved to close it. He paused, then stilled. 

He looked at a drawing of himself, in profile, his curls exaggerated, a nimbus, eyes creased as he smiled. Alec knew the exact moment this was: early one morning, before makeup and script edits, as they stood outside in the chill Yorkshire air, Josh in his black beanie cap and Alec holding a coffee, trying to wake up, laughing already. He laughed a lot with Josh, even in the frigid misery of rain or snow or long hours and grueling schedules. He knew when this was, and it had to be drawn from memory. 

Unable to stop himself, half listening for Josh in the other room, he slowly turned the page. 

His own eyes looked back at him, taking up a whole page, eyelashes thick. The words.”sunshine through cognac” were written barely legible, on the seam. 

A door slammed. 

He closed the journal, left it on the table and turned away, reaching for his coat. 

“There it is! Couldn’t find that.” Josh exclaimed, as Alec turned. 

“Yes, it had fallen.”

“Thanks.” Josh smiled, the openness of his face as far from John Saxby’s as it was possible to get. 

“Let’s go?” Alec tipped his head and Josh nodded, his journal safely tucked in a pocket. 

From then on, when Josh opened it to write or draw, pencil sometimes pressing to his lips, tips of his fingers smudged with graphite which blended with the mud of the land, Alec noticed.

Alec didn’t mention the drawings. 

CHEMISTRY

In an interview, way after, Josh had said the other actors he’d read with were brilliant, and that had been kind of a lie. 

Well, it hadn’t BEEN a lie, initially. They’d been really, really good. One had long hair in a ponytail, very bohemian like, the other fine cheekbones and startling green eyes. They knew the scenes cold, came absolutely prepared, and it went well. He wasn’t unhappy but he could see Francis needed more. More spark, more energy, something. Josh had already realized he’d never worked with a director like Francis. He suspected there were no directors like Francis. Everything Francis did came viscerally, from emotion and an unerring sense of rightness for the work. Josh rather fervently hoped one of these worked out because Francis didn’t settle and he didn’t compromise. 

“Next we have Alec Secăreanu, thirty-two.” the production assistant announced. 

“Yes, I’ve spoken to Alec. We’re ready.” Francis opened a new folder, flipping through pages

Josh nodded, moving his neck around and stretching to get out the kinks. 

A man walked through the door wearing a graphic tee and jeans set low on his hips. His dark hair rose from a close crop to a sweep of messy curls that defied gravity somehow and he had soft scruff, a shade over a five 'o clock shadow. 

“Alec.” 

“Josh.” 

When they clasped hands, such a common, polite thing, a bloom of heat, like a low grade hum, traveled outward underneath Josh’s skin. He tried not to show it, to hold the unblinking dark stare, but for a second he felt literally off balance, like standing on a beach under shifting sand. 

“I’m Francis, we all know, me of course. Thank you for traveling here, Alec,”

“Of course.” His voice sounded low and rich, several tenors below any of the others and for a second Josh wondered if it was an affectation but knew it wasn’t. Josh had already decided he’d alter his pitch for Johnny Saxby; lower, rougher, to match the person Johny was and the life he led. Alec would never have to resort to that.

Alec finally removed his magic hand and Josh blinked, gathering himself. 

“Shall we begin?”

Alec nodded, eyes shifting to Josh again, and Josh made sure John Saxby stared out of his when Francis gave the go. 

*******************************

“Thank you, Alec, we’ll be in touch.” the production assistant smiled and Alec smiled back, with a nod, before taking his leave.

Josh took a moment. He needed it. 

In actuality he couldn’t really recall much but he knew it was good; that it felt true. It’s as if the moment they began, Alec had a kind of still energy he seemed to turn on at will. Or amplify was more like it, and it banked the sullen hostility of Josh’s John Saxby in a dance that felt effortless. Josh could barely describe it. He’d had good readings before; a couple he’d characterized as great readings, even. But they hadn’t been this. 

He realized he’d been holding in a breath and let it out slowly. 

“Well, I think we have our Gheorghe, don’t you?” Francis said as soon as the door closed. 

“There’s one more…” the assistant looked on her notes. 

“But I don’t need one more.” Francis said. 

“They came from Bucharest.” The assistant pointed out. 

In the end they tested the last actor because Francis had been on the other side of that door and he knew how crap it felt to not even be given a chance. 

Not that the poor fourth guy had one, really. 

You couldn’t force that kind of energy between two people. Josh wasn’t that old but he knew that much. Alec had been it from the minute he walked in. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you've jumped without realizing your feet have left the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing; Josh O'Connor/Alec Secareanu  
> Rating: Barely PG-13 for now; NC-17 eventually.  
> I have done research on Romanian and British terms but have no beta in my little RPF fandom of one :-) Apologies for any terms used incorrectly  
> Yes, I am taking artistic license with timelines, names, and places.  
> Disclaimer: This is completely and categorically a work of fiction.  
> Dedication: For Nico, who is still saying 'Write it! I'll read it!' after all this time, and means it. For addictedtogaymovies on tumblr, who offered enthusiastic support to someone she'd just met and tumblr user skm-skm, the best on-the-spot Josh and Alec resource there is. Love you all!

SECRET

Alec looked in Josh’s journal three days later, after Josh had fallen asleep on the couch with his head on Alec’s lap.

That happened a lot. The days were as long as they were rewarding, grueling as they were enriching. Francis had told him Josh had decided to go full method, something Alec found surprising because he thought they had gone very method already, with the farm work prep and the diet, only eating what Yorkshire families would eat and when. It would be intense, never losing the accent and Alec wondered if it would be too much, mentally and physically, out here in these harsh elements. 

But if Josh slipped, Alec rarely saw it. Neither of them had been on the internet and made only necessary phone calls; there was no time and the cottage had no wifi. Alec had no idea what Josh would supposedly sound like besides this; he'd had the same accent at the chemistry reading. As the days melded into the next scene, and the next early, freezing day, Alec nearly forgot Josh was supposed to be immersed in method all the time. He was just Josh, unfailingly hard working, funny, open. 

The only reason, Alec knew, they weren’t both worse off due to the elements and the schedule, was that Francis never faltered, never let them down. He did all he could to guide them through the world he’d built. Alec could sense, in his bones, this project would be strong for it. 

But the work was what it was and they’d both lost weight with the demands of the weather and the labor. Today they had wrestled huge heifers, lifting and medicating them, and maneuvering them for the shot. His arms felt sore and aching, and his eyes burned with fatigue and when Josh did the slow crumple on the sofa that led to him curling up on Alec’s legs, one long arm flung around Alec’s waist, Alec let him. He ran a hand through Josh’s cropped hair at his nape, scratching with his nails and Josh made a small sleep noise, muted and low.

So he had no resistance when he realized Josh’s journal had been left on the table within reach, next to Alec’s own. 

It felt like a betrayal. 

That didn’t stop him. 

Reaching out, Alec carefully opened the book. 

A few notes in Josh’s frenetic script. One said, “Ask Sian for new knickers; itchy.” A used sugar packet sellotaped next to a paragraph about why Josh thought Gheorghe put spices in his Pot Noodles, and not sugar. 

The next page had a study of Alec’s hands. He knew his hands like he knew Josh’s. His hands had blunt tips where Josh’s tapered; broader across the palm while Josh had pronounce knuckles. The method looked loose, flowing, as if he drew it quickly while they sat. In one Alec;s hand held the knife he’d been practicing with for the lamb skinning scene; in the other sketch Alec’s hand held a coffee cup, a twirl of steam rising from it’s depths.

He turned another page. 

A deep flash of heat curled in his stomach. 

A rendering in dark ink, of Alec’s head bowed over Josh’s hand, peek of tongue laving over the palm, took up a page, edge to edge. Alec knew this scene. He remembered reading it for the first time in the script Francis couriered over and the way he felt his face run hot at the words. Alec could not believe, until that moment, that any writer or director would convey such a thing, lay it out for the world in bald, deeply intimate terms; lay themselves out in that manner. It frightened him a little, the immediate desperation he felt for this role, then, the NEED to acquire it.

“Feel like velvet?” was scrawled on the margin. A flame flickered in him again, low and deep. Alec closed his eyes, rubbed them. 

He was tired. That was all. 

Looking down, Alec realized his hand had found its way to Josh again, splayed on his back between the sharp arches of his shoulder blades, so the slow beat of his heart pushed into Alec’s palm. Alec could not remember moving his hand; he had not planned to. 

He had to get up. Right now. 

Closing the journal and carefully repositioning it on the table, he tried to move Josh without waking him but that did not work, as it had not worked any other time. 

“Mm.” Josh sat up, rearranging his legs on the short sofa; all sofas were going to be short for Josh. He was all arms and legs, big feet and huge hands, and was one of those people who always would be. Watching him go from the sleepy, shy boy rubbing at his face to the defiant, complex protagonist of their film fascinated Alec every day. “Sorry, fell asleep on you again. Probably drooled all over. That’s embarrassin’.``

“Yes, there is a lot of drool.” Alec tsked regretfully. “I was worried it was a medical problem?”

“Fuck off!” Josh laughed, his ears growing red, dimples deepening. He shoved at Alec, who smiled, fending off Josh's hands as he rose. “You snore.”

“I do not.” Alec contradicted with the point of a finger. 

“ Like a freight train!” Josh insisted resolutely, “In case you were wondering.”

“Lies!” Alec maintained, as they shuffled to the bedrooms. 

The cottage had one small bedroom with two narrow beds, a small but well stocked kitchen and a living area with one sofa and a small tv. If they reached fully up their palms met the ceiling. When Francis moved him in after Alec’s first scene Alec liked the warmth of the home after his hotel in town where, even in Yorkshire, he received some looks and a wide berth when he walked in wearing his mud-splattered wellies and stinking of sheep manure.

They settled into each other with surprising ease. It would have shocked him except that between meeting deadlines, rising early, shooting late into the night, and birthing lambs, he had no energy for it.

“‘S true.” Josh said. Alec glanced at him and Josh’s face broke into a grin. He shook his head as his hand ruffled his hair, leaving it messy and careless. “Aye, ‘s not true. You’re annoyingly quiet when you sleep.” They had both drifted off on the sofa, before, or even on one of their beds as they blocked the next day’s scenes. 

“You do not drool.” Alec said. “Much.” 

Laughing at Josh’s expression he made it to the bathroom and shut the door before Josh could grab him, and leaned against the door still smiling. Looking up he ran into his own stare in the bathroom mirror, and watched his smile fade. 

He ignored his erection in the shower and went to bed while Josh was bathing. 

He counted it as a victory. 

AFTER TOP FELL

They dragged back to the cottage after four days of filming in ruins at the top of a hill where the wind felt like it cut into your lungs like a knife. Josh had never been so happy to see their wall pinboard full of script scenes and directions, their few dishes they hadn’t gotten to wash before leaving, and the lumpy couch they watched telly on. 

“I’ll put on tea.” Alec placed a hand on his lower back before heading to the kitchen.

“Takin’ bath, quick like.” Josh said. 

“Don’t use all the hot water.” Alec called and Josh raised one hand in acknowledgment.

He sank in the bath, steam rising from the water, the burn almost sinful. He’d wrenched a spot on his shoulder at some point; probably moving a sheep around or something, and the heat helped. He would have fallen asleep if Alec hadn’t knocked on the door to check on him, door creaking open.

“Your teas are getting cold.” 

Josh smiled, eyes closed from his had leaned back on the tub’s edge. “Tea.”

“Tea.” Alec repeated. He did it every time, didn’t get fussed if you corrected him. He could speak three languages and two dialects but the English plural tense always gave him trouble. Josh actually liked how it sounded; like how Alec’d say something that was almost a word but not quite and it was more charming than it should have been. 

“Be right there.” 

Alec had laid out tea and managed to whip up a mash and stew thing in the time Josh had been in the bath. It looked like heaven and Josh inhaled the first food that wasn’t mess tent catering in four days. 

“Could bloody kiss you. That smells good.” 

Alec smiled, the creases around his eyes deepening. “We did kiss.” 

“We kissed pretty alright.” 

“We did.” They had done the blow job scene in one take and the other sex scene in two, the one with the kissing. It had been different, being in the alltogther in the open, freezing Top Fell air instead of their bedroom, discussing how far down Alec’s body Josh should kiss before Alec threw an arm across his face, or how to get in position without causing major damage AND while keeping their pants on from the knee down. The first time they tried they got tangled and fell off the bed where they lay laughing for ten minutes, pants around their ankles. They moved a few blankets to the floor after that. 

***************************************************************

He yawned his way out of sleep, head on Alec’s lap, again. Alec had drifted off, too, and one hand lay on Josh’s chest over his heart, warm and still. 

He didn’t move right away. He could have. He’d started to not want to. 

_Is this weird? _The thought appeared kind of hazily in his head, but it didn’t trouble him. This wasn’t his first intense role, though it was the only one he’d committed to this deeply and fully. Things happened during shoots;it had happened every project Josh had ever done. Every play, every film. It wasn’t a big deal.__

____

____

Josh had a girlfriend. He hadn’t spoken to her in weeks; hadn’t texted since before Top Fell because it pulled him right out of character and, also, he was done in practically every night, but he did have one. Alec had a girlfriend, too. He’d commiserate when Josh lamented about missing Hannah, early on. 

_So what is this? ___

____

__Josh watched the dark fringe of Alec’s lashes on his cheeks, the arch of his brows and the soft, soft scruff on his jaw. One of the things Josh liked least about kissing scenes with men was the scratchiness of their beards or stubble. Alec’s felt like sable or down, and the first time it had caressed across Josh’s palm, while practicing for that scene, that same low grade electric hum rolled out, lazy and heated._ _

__The scene had gone perfectly; one take in the chill of the stone barn, in the golden lamplight with James' camera right on top of them as it had been the entire shoot._ _

__No one ever talked about those times, those scenes; like an unsaid rule._ _

__How you were the character during, but after, all you'd experienced, that you knew, it stayed with you. Smells, touches, sounds, it lived in you, in spite of you, sometimes. Josh had done sex scenes. He could compartmentalize really well. Usually._ _

__Not so much this time._ _

___So what is this? ___His mind insisted again._ _

____

____

___This is mine. _The thought came easily and he trusted it.__ _ _

______Alec roused with a sigh, blinking awake. They looked at each other, neither moving, until Josh averted his eyes, smiling a little. He was never going to win that contest with Alec. “Passed out.”_ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

“Bed.”

“Right.” 

Josh headed to the brush his teeth first because he always did. Alec liked to get his clothes and things ready for in the morning and laid everything out, where Josh was more of a gatherer when he woke up. He knew where things were, mostly. He didn’t need to find them now. It worked out, somehow, like most things had between them. 

By the time Alec finished his bath, Josh had spent five minutes trying to get at the spot under his shoulder. He almost had it if he wrapped right arm around his chest but being a lefty, he couldn’t quite press hard enough to make a difference. It was just below his fingertips if he reached behind him. 

The cloud of warmth and soap scent wafted over in the air a second before the weight of Alec’s gaze settled on his skin. He’d learned it after these weeks, but it had started that first time, when Alec shook his hand. Practicing the sex scenes, which had no words and were entirely touch and sight, had just made Josh’s skin recognize it’s substance. Alec laughed easier, joked more than Gheorghe, but the weight of his stare felt the same. 

Looking over his shoulder he met Alec’s assessing eyes. 

“What happened?”

“Messed up something when I lifted that heifer, I think. I’ll ask for some lidocaine tomorrow or…”, warm, firm hand on the middle of his back and he lost the plot of whatever he meant to say. 

“Tell me where.” 

“You don’t have to....” 

“Fuck off.” Alec drew out the words so Josh dropped his chin with a smile. “You need to sleep. It will help for tonight.”

“Under my left shoulder.” Alec’s thumb shifted under the curve of bone and pressed in slow, deliberate circles, teasing out the tension bit by bit. Just when it almost began to hurt, Alec shifted and pressed a slightly different place, touch hot and skillful and a low sound escaped Josh, unbidden. His eyes drifted shut and he let them, lids suddenly too heavy. 

“It is tight here.” Alec murmured, almost to himself. 

He started to agree, say something, but instead gasped into a sob, out of nowhere, eyes moist. He looked away, mortified and stunned out of the stupor he’d been drifting into. 

Alec stopped pressing and Josh almost did cry at the loss. He couldn’t really speak. Alec sat quietly behind him, hands resting on either side of Josh's hips, letting him work it through. 

“Sorry, I’m,” He finally managed thickly, wiping at his eyes, “It’s just…”

“I know,” Alec started again, pressing and massaging, and Josh would have murdered for that touch. “This is an intense thing we are doing, this project.”

“Yeah,” Josh sighed, “And I love it, just. Don’t think I expected to be this...it’s a lot sometimes.” His only answer was a deeper push of fingers and palms into muscles and tendons and he gave himself to it.

“Mm.” he was drifting again, from the intoxicating touch and from Alec,, close enough to feel his warmth and inhale his scent which he could place now, find it in a crowd of people, and from across the room: faint soap, the alchemy of heat and Alec’s skin, a scent all his own Josh had imprinted in his senses. 

Next thing he knew Alec was guiding him down onto the bed, negotiating his blankets around close. That meant his magic touch had gone and Josh squeezed his eyes shut, willing away more ridiculous tears because what was he ON about, for fuck’s sake.

Alec began rubbing circles on his back and Josh sighed. “’M cold, me.” He muttered, burrowing deeper in his bed, a real bed, not a cot-like thing in the portable caravan they used to catch naps here and there because many of the scenes were at night; nicer than the film caravan, but not more comfortable. Another blanket was pulled on him. The chill began to drift from all his extremities for the first time since Top Fell. Warm and, tired, he stopped fighting sleep.

His shoulder didn’t hurt anymore, at all. 

FRANCIS

He sat naked in the dark smoking and watching the man on his bed sleep, gray curves under a darker blanket.

/boy. Let's not lose our perspective at this late date. That won't do/

He could not, after all, call Alec and Josh 'boys,' not only in his head but to producers and crew and editors, and call the tall, strapping lad whose job title, ironically, was Best Boy, a 'man. He was younger than both Alec and Josh by several years. 

Yet here he sat, after a charming evening with a darling floppy haired boy whose skills in bed far surpassed the passable chicken stir fry he'd concocted for them in Francis neat and rarely used kitchen, head full of his other boys, his real ones. The ones hopefully resting after the difficult on-location shoot of the last four days. In actuality, his mind was never far from them. 

Inhaling deeply he, he exhaled and watched the smoke drift in the dark, having sat here so long his eyes had adjusted. 

He had never had two actors, two people, really, put such utter, blind faith in him. The script had it's appeal, of course; neither one had carried a film as a lead. Yet it demanded a great deal from them. It's why he'd needed leads that were fairly unknown. He simply couldn't see demanding an established young celebrity relocate to the bitterly cold Spring of Yorkshire for two months, birth lambs and shovel sheep shit, and also consent to frontal nudity. Not for what he was able to pay them. 

Still, Josh had been keen from the start. His audition tape had, actually, been so spot-on Francis was certain Josh had simply been playing himself and Francis could not take on any actor so difficult. Josh filled the screen of the audition tape, unkempt hair and sullen flat, stare, his incongruous ears giving him the jarring juxtaposition of youth despite the oddly blunt features, broad shoulders, and enormous hands; worker's hands. Francis hadn't expected the essence of Johnny Saxby to fall on his lap, whole and in its entirety, but he couldn't afford problems on his first feature. You only got to do your first once. 

The lanky, smiling boy that bounded off the train in London was still another surprise. Jeans cuffed nearly too short over trainers, broad shoulders hidden by a jumper and cashmere coat, and wide smile softening the planes of his face. He could have been any boarding school upper class student on holiday. 

“We're going to have to find the Johnny in you again!” He mused and Josh smiled, eyes bright and excited. Francis wondered if he'd ever been this new. 

“I promise he's there. I've listened to every Yorkshire film I can find!” They'd been walking along, Josh thoughtfully measuring his strides to Francis' much shorter ones. “My mother's from Yorkshire, but North, so she never had an accent. Some of my cousins sort of do...” 

They strolled along the South Bank and talked, about the script, the approach to the film, and about Francis' Johnny Saxby as if Johnny were a real person; to Francis, he was. Eventually the path they'd been walking on ended at The Design Museum where they took tea at the canteen, neither so well known that anyone bothered with them. 

Josh dug into his leather satchel, flipping open he buckle one-handed. Francis' eyes kept being drawn to the enormity of those hands. He wondered what confluence of ancestry combined to give this tall, gangly boy the mits of a port dock laborer. Josh fished out a leather notebook full of markers between it's pages. “I've been making notes....” then paused at Francis' face. 

“What...”

Francis, dug in his own rucksack and pulled out the thick, worn scrapbook he'd been carrying with him for two years. When he was acting, no matter how small the part, he'd keep a notebook and fill it with backstory. He found the process invaluable to the work and he'd begun the same with this project. He had notes in different inks, bits of fabric and taped plants; some sheep's wool and hay. 

He had never found anyone else that worked this way. 

Josh beamed, fairly thrumming. Francis could sense his urge to reach over and look through the book in Francis' hands. “Brilliant! See, you have to give it to me. It's a sign.” 

And Francis absolutely believed in signs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How it's going; how it started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing; Josh O'Connor/Alec Secareanu  
> Rating: Barely PG-13 for now; NC-17 eventually.  
> I have done research on Romanian and British terms but I am not perfect. Apologies for any terms used incorrectly. Yes, I am taking artistic license with dates and timelines .  
> Disclaimer: This is completely and categorically a work of fiction.  
> Dedication: For Nico, who is still saying 'Write it! I'll read it!' after all this time, and means it. For addictedtogaymovies on tumblr, who offered enthusiastic support to someone she'd just met, Twitter user sudipta, constant reader, chearleader, and the best Alec and Josh squee partner! And lastly but never leastly, to my darling Shino, who after my fretting and virtual hand wringing, consented to beta this endeavor. She is brilliant. Gracias.

Sămânță

A sound woke him up and he struggled against it. Inhaling, he ignored the faint urge for the bathroom and embraced the solid weight in his arms closer, nose buried in clean, soft hair. Consciousness drifting, hands heavy with sleep rubbed Josh's back, gentle bumps of spine pronounced under his fingertips. Awareness grew by degrees and he blinked in the dark, the noise continuing, muted but insistent.

A mobile.

He'd never made it to his bed.

Josh had tucked under Alec's neck, one arm held close to his body, as if in protection, but a long, pyjama clad leg thrown across Alec's own, partway to the floor. It reminded Alec of summers at his grandparents, sharing a small bed with cousins, arms and legs tangled, a pile of puppies, everywhere the scent of earth and leaves and many children.

Not the same, in honesty, as the full-grown man snoring softly against Alec's throat, but those thoughts had begun to fade and lose shape; his bones had started their loose slide back into slumber.

The mobile had stopped ringing. Good.

Almost immediately, it started again and Josh made a vague, unhappy murmur against his neck.

The sound triggered Alec's subconscious and the need for the bathroom became strong, suddenly. Muttering, “Rahat,” he carefully crawled from the comfort of Josh's arms. Josh mumbled in protest and Alec soothed his hair until the small sounds of unhappiness faded. He kept hoping the cursed phone would stop again, but it didn't.

Rising as carefully as he could, trying not to fall in the dark, he followed the sound of the phone. He found it under a script on the dresser, plugged in and charging.

“Salut? Uh, yes?”

“Who is this?” a girl's voice asked. Alec glanced at Josh and headed to the adjoining bathroom, shutting the door quietly, before turning on the light. His reflection stared back at him, hair a bird's nest and eyes bloodshot.

“Who is speaking?”

“Is Josh there? This is Hannah.”

“Ah, yes, uh,” Llike a cold engine, his English was never the best without a warm up time, “He is asleep and I don't want to wake him up because he has not had good sleep for a while. Uh, maybe you can call tomorrow?”

“I've called tomorrow for two weeks.” she said, her voice plaintive. Alec remembered his last conversation with Cristina, over two weeks ago, now. He'd explained he wouldn't be calling much; that the days were long and hard and he needed to concentrate. She understood; this was the biggest part, the most exposure, anyone in their circle had gotten. Alec made sure to go no more than three days without texting, but he suspected Josh had not been doing that, either.

“I'm sorry.” he tried.

“Are you sure you can't wake him just for a bit? It's only one in the morning there...”

“I really think he needs his rest? It has been a very hard days.”

He heard a resigned sigh and sighed silently himself. He didn't know Josh's girlfriend or how difficult she might be but he refused to wake Josh up. It just was not something he was going to do.

“He told me they'd be long hours, but I didn't think they'd be this long. I just wanted to make sure he's alright.”

“He is okay.”

“Are you Alec?”

“Yes, I'm sorry. Yes, I'm Alec.”

“You're probably tired, too.”

“Yes,” he admitted, wondering how much longer he could continue talking about how Josh wasn't calling his girlfriend because it felt like he was getting near the end of what he could contribute and his need for the toilet was becoming quite strong. 

“Could you ask him to call me tomorrow?” she asked and Alec did feel bad for her. She sounded sad and young and he could not promise Josh would call or text her tomorrow.

Well, today.

“I will tell him.”

“Thank you.” the end-of-call tone sounded and he liked her a little more for not dragging out the goodbye. Very few people did that.

Relieving himself at last, he washed his hands and rubbed his face. He opened the door quietly and walked into the bedroom but the small bedside lamp was lit and Josh lay propped on an elbow, squinting at him.

Of course he was.

“Why are you up?” Josh asked.

“Your girlfriend.” Alec held up the phone and placed it back on the dresser.

“Shite.” Josh collapsed back on the bed, closing his eyes.

“She wants you to call.”

“I know. I’ll call her.” He sighed. Alec didn't believe him but counseling Josh on his relationship wasn't his place. Keeping his own afloat was hard enough, so Alec said nothing and started to pull back the covers on his bed.

“What ya doin'?”

Alec glanced at him. Josh lay on his back, watching, pale skin warm in the low lamplight.

“Sleeping?”

Josh shifted over on the narrow single bed, eyes still on him.

Alec paused, his hand still holding a blanket.

They'd fallen asleep on the same bed before. One of them always woke up and moved before morning. They had never discussed it; it just happened or it didn't.  
This was different.

He held Josh's eyes and the air between them ebbed and swelled like an ocean wave.

“It's gettin' cold in here.” Josh finally said, voice drowsy and grumpy and Alec shook his head, smiling.

It was cold in here. Their one propane heater was small and the insulation in the cottage not good.

He walked over and climbed back into bed, his back to Josh's front. Josh turned off the light and melded into him, pulling the blankets over them both, knees behind Alec's knees, Josh's big feet fitting behind Alec's cold ones. Alec shifted into the curve of him and Josh, mindful of the hurting shoulder Alec had worked on, loosely hooked an arm around Alec’s waist. He had both long arms around Alec, hands joined and hanging off the edge of the narrow bed. Alec shifted deeper in their nest, head pillowed partly on the smooth swell of bicep which smelled of soap and skin and Josh. In the dark he could make out the shape of long fingers and strong bones. He'd seen those hands chip stone and hold a lamb, nails ragged and dirty like his own, and he'd seen them later, at the table, gesturing and animated, graceful as birds. He had a desire to reach out and trace the outline of knuckles, to see if the skin had become as rough as his own these past weeks. He was awake enough not to do it. Instead he clasped Josh's forearm to keep his own arm from falling off the bed, and Josh made one of his low sounds that showed he was almost back asleep. Alec was right behind him.

Just before he gave in completely he heard Josh mumble, “'Night.”

“'Night.” he whispered back, lids already shut, body lax and secure.

He thought he felt a light press of lips on his neck, just above where his collar ended. It disappeared, quick as butterfly wings, so he wasn't sure he felt it. He thought he might have already been dreaming.

)*)*)*)*)**)*)*)*)*)

JOSH

Josh was a thief.

He rose in the early morning, when the light had just turned from dark to gray, to capture memories while Alec slept. He drew in the near darkness, peering at the page, the charcoal fast and loose, Alec's dark curls against the pillow a sweep of graphite, soft beard a smudge and the tilt of his jaw over the secret hollow of Alec's throat, where Josh had just been, a quick line. He stole moments with paper, pencil, and ink, not allowing himself to erase because he had no time. He crafted them and hid them, held them close.

Josh had stolen before. Every project, really. He wasn't like other people who collected signed programs, videos, other mementos. He needed to create the moments himself. Only that way could he have them as a whole, sensory and sight and setting, in his head when he revisited. He'd kept a book of every project he'd ever done, since his first job.

He'd stolen before, but he'd never felt like a thief and it was new. It was strange. It’s just that it wasn't enough. Catching a quick sketch of Alec's hands as they waited between shots or creating a small drawing of Alec's profile or his smile, from memory, weren't enough.

He'd started taking more, in the early morning when everything was quiet and still, until he knew the curve of Alec's eyes by heart. That his lashes looked like dark lace against his cheek when he slept and that sometimes, when he dreamed, a line would appear between his eyebrows, as if the dreams were bad or troubling. That on his upper lip, on the right side, there was a tiny patch where the dark, soft hair grew slightly thicker, and he knew Alec trimmed it sometimes, but not now, because Gheorghe couldn't be bothered. Josh knew these things and he hoarded them like ravens did shiny objects, sometimes just in his head, and, when he could, in his book. He knew others might have these things; that he probably shouldn't have them, or try to find them, but he did.

And he didn't think about why.

Alec sighed and shifted on his side, taking Josh's pose with him.

On the margin of the sketch Josh wrote, “his neck smells warm and safe”

Josh closed his book.

By the time the alarm went off he'd actually been up, started Alec's coffee, and began breakfast.

Alec walked in the kitchen, curls askew and blinked at the activity, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Alright, you.” Josh pointed with a fork. “'S not like I never do the breakfast.”

Josh had once done the breakfast.

Alec smiled around his coffee cup, eyes amused over its rim. “How is your shoulder?” His voice sounded even lower in the mornings, rough from sleep, velvet and gravel.

“Real good, yeah. That helped, last night.”

He nodded and headed back to get dressed, the hem of his sleep pants low on his hips.

Josh tried not to look at him walk away and didn't altogether manage it.

)*)*)*)*)**)*)*)*)*)

FRANCIS

He knew something had shifted between them as soon as they arrived for the scene on the tractor, in the field.

It wouldn't be obvious to most people but he'd made knowing those boys and all their nuances his mission in life for almost a year.

He watched them walk to the makeup trailer talking, Alec holding his morning coffee and Josh still rubbing his face. The lad took at least an hour to wake up, as opposed to Alec who arrived alert provided he'd had at least one strong cuppa. However, as they walked Josh smiled over Alec, a small, crooked Johnny Saxby grin, but the amount of Josh in his eyes could be seen for miles. When they trekked up the metal stairs to the makeup trailer, Alec put a hand on Josh's back.

This, in itself, wasn't strange because Alec was a toucher, something Francis could somehow tell from the minute he saw Alec.

However, Josh glanced back with another shy smile, eyes traveling over Alec's face and Francis felt a sudden unwelcome flutter somewhere in the area of his chest.

He suspected he'd had much the same look at some point when it came to Alec. Only Francis' full beard and the fact that he was probably ancient in their eyes saved him. He intended to use those protections to their fullest and for as long as he could. 

Turning to review the day's shooting with James, he encountered Liam, his bed companion last night, watching him watch the boys.

“James needs to talk to you.”

“Right. Marvelous.”

Francis avoided his eyes as he walked off at a brisk pace, to find James and not dwell at this moment on the unreadable look on Liam's face.

)*)*)*)*)**)*)*)*)*)

JOSH- CHEMISTRY ~ Pt 2

Josh had nearly convinced himself Alec really wasn't as attractive as he first thought. That it was just the intensity and the situation of it all, and they'd read for over two hours. That was quite a lot of serious interaction. Those had been important scenes.

Then Francis informed him they'd be having tea together just when Josh was getting his bearings. He could still feel the ghost of Alec's palm on his, like an imprint.

“Tea? I thought he left...”

“We got him back.” Francis smiled and Josh nodded. Then, with concern, “Is everything all right?” Josh realized he'd been rubbing the palm of one hand with the other, lost in thought.

“Fine, yeah. No, he's the one.” Josh rubbed his hands on his jeans as if he could erase the distracting feeling.

So here he sat with what had to objectively be one of the most beautiful people he'd ever met in person. As a working actor, that said a lot. It took Josh no time to sense that Alec being beautiful was also in large part because he just didn't seem to realize it; not in the way others did. You could say, 'Oh, they're attractive, but they aren't full of themselves.” When Josh had worked in entertainment long enough to know, many times, beautiful people knew exactly how attractive they were and were jolly well full of themselves.

As a kid who'd taken most of puberty to try to grow into his ears and never achieved it, Josh could sense conceit at a thousand paces.

He could find very little of it in the man seated across from him wearing the slightly too small graphic t-shirt, easy smile, and epic hair that rose up like a punk cotton candy mass of frizz and curls.

“It is crazy, yes?” Alec ran a hand over the epic hair, fluffing it even more, curves of his biceps straining the short sleeves. His sleepy eyes crinkled at Josh and Josh found himself smiling back right away.

“It's a bit epic, yeah.”

“I had a- how you say? Hawk? With the shaving?” He ran a hand over one side of the choppy surface.

“Mohawk? You had a Mohawk, you mean?”

“Yeah, Mohawk for Fight Club. I was Tyler Durden.”

“You're shitting me.” Josh tried to imagine him with half his hair gone punching and fighting in that intense labyrinth of a role and had a really hard time. The scenes they'd done and the serene man in front of him were so far from that.

“No, for real.” Alec laughed and took a sip of his tea, “It was wild”

Josh listened to how he and this theatrical group had to raise funds for the play which took place in the round and sometimes had scenes that began in the street, his rich voice background to the expression of his hands; they both spoke with their hands. They shared parts they'd done, Alec impressed Josh had worked with Meryl Streep, and Josh impressed at the volume of work Alec had done just in Romania, not a place Josh ever thought of as a hotbed of acting opportunities.

“I don't mean that in an insulting way, just want to be clear,” Josh qualified quickly but Alec shook his head, wiping at his mouth. His manners were impeccable because, yes, Josh was the kind of person that noticed that, Johnny Saxby in his head or not.

“No, it is true. It is very frustrating. Can be very frustrating, if you want new experiences or new...,” he looked to the side as he searched for a word, something Josh already recognized as a tell, when the long, long dark lashes flicked to the left as he thought. “Challenges? Challenges. Only a small group of actors have regular work, but it is the same work, always. Same plays, every year, same venues. Or the same roles on the television.”

“So I take it you aren't part of that group, then?” Josh took a sip of his tea but most of his salad and soup remained. He kept forgetting to eat as they talked.

Alec shook his head with a philosophical shrug. “I turned a few parts down. It was, how do you say? Not..”

“Appreciated?”

“Not appreciated, yes.”

“But, I mean. You shouldn't take things that you feel aren't right for you. Not if you don't have to. Sometimes you have to.” He corrected, thinking of a few years ago as he waited tables for a year and was willing to do just about anything to get a go.

“You do, sometimes. I think we have all been there.” Alec had pushed his plate aside. He'd made more headway on his meal. “But I really was wanting to grow and discover new things. That's why, the script, it is beautiful that way.”

'”Yeah, absolutely, that's how I reacted as well.”

“Parts of it are very explicit,” Alec said, eyebrows raising, eyes on the table before they rose, the brown so clear in the light it reminded Josh of the purest amber. “But I think I can trust Francis.”

“You can, completely. I do,” Josh leaned forward on his elbows, “He really takes you through so you know, like, the reason for everything. And he was an actor, so it's really brilliant, his understanding.” Already Josh couldn't picture doing this part, taking this journey, with anyone but the person across from him. His mind already couldn't conceive of another person in the part.

“That is part of the reason I feel more, uhm.” Again the flick to the left, lashes lowering like fans, “Less worried, I think.”

“Good.” Josh said, holding his stare even if it wasn't easy. He was going to have to do it for the role, so might as well practise.

Alec also shifted his weight on his arms and didn't drop Josh's eyes and /he is fucking gorgeous/ but it didn't feel like a dare or some kind of one-upmanship. It couldn't when the creases at Alec's eyes deepened as he smiled and he could emanate an almost willful calm, a peace, like Josh had never felt.

Someone's phone went off for several seconds. No one checked.

“I think it is you.” Alec finally said.

Josh reached for his mobile, turned off the ringer, and put it aside. Alec watched this in silence, then his phone went off.

He did the same thing.

They looked at each other some more but the silence didn't feel strained or awkward. Silence didn't seem to bother Alec.

“It will be a powerful project but we will support each other, yes?” Alec's stare never left Josh.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“To support. And to Francis.” Alec held up his cup, probably cold by now, but Josh matched it.

“To support. And Francis.” They clinked and took a sip, both making a face at the taste then laughing.

“We definitely need a refill and a toast with better tea.” Josh looked around for a wait person .

“Shouldn't we go back?

“When's your flight tomorrow?”

“Six-thirty in the morning.”

“Plenty of time.”

“Yeah? Okay.” Alec nodded.

They talked for two hours more before the assistant came looking for them. Josh found himself thinking, for a long time, of their conversation, Alec's laugh, how much more he wanted to talk to him. He hadn't felt this excited for a project in a long time.

But it was three months before he saw Alec again, and longer than that before they could really speak again.


End file.
